


Wayward Birds

by LanternWisp



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Case Fic, Crying, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Overprotective Bruce, Pen Pals, Promptfic, Protective Bruce, References to Drugs, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanternWisp/pseuds/LanternWisp
Summary: Jason learns that maybe not all of Bruce's rules are fair, but a fair few are there for a reason.





	Wayward Birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysical/gifts).



> Promptfic for Lysical, who asked for robin!Jason rebelling against overbearing dad Bruce.

 

Jason’s feet landed almost noiselessly on the concrete surface of the GCPD roof, city lights glimmering all around as he flitted towards the Bat-Signal.

“I hit a guy with a whole trout!” His face was flushed and hot against the chill of the night as he skittered to a stop and spread his arms for emphasis. “ _This_ big! He’s gonna be put off seafood for such a long time!”

Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, trench coat collar turned up against the wind. Jason was not fond of police, but Gordon didn’t really count. He actually reminded Jason of a gruff sort of uncle, what with his old man glasses and bristly mustache and disapproving looks.

“I take that to mean you two found something by the fisheries after all.”

“Smuggling operation,” Batman said as he materialized over Jason’s shoulder. “The Odessa mob trying to get a leg up in Burnley. We shut it down.”

Gordon shook his head tiredly. “Their activity’s escalating. The last thing we need is for someone to get their hands on enough firepower to fuel a gang war.”

“That’s not going to happen, Jim. They know we’re onto them and there’s time before they try again. We’ll keep a close eye on their movements from here on out.”

“Right. Well in the meantime there’s something else I could use your help with.” Gordon handed over a manilla folder. “Certain powers that be think it’s a waste of time. Say that I don’t have enough cause to devote city resources to a formal investigation.”

“What’s the problem?” Jason asked as he stood on his toes in an attempt to read around Batman’s elbow.

“We’ve got several reports of missing children from the Uptown residential district.”

“That ain’t so weird,” Jason said, now trying to tug Batman’s arm to bring the folder to a more manageable level. “Kids run off all the time over there. Maybe they’re better off.”

Gordon frowned, giving him a vaguely troubled look.

“I was told something similar. I don’t have proof that the disappearances are connected, but something just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I’ll look into it.” Batman slipped the file into the folds of his cape.

“He means _we,_ ” Jason said, careening into Batman’s side. “Right?”

“No. Tomorrow’s a school night,” Batman said sternly. “Robin stays home.”

Gordon was nodding with something like approval. “If kids are being targeted it’s a good idea for you to hang back anyway, son.”

Jason gaped as he looked between both men. He never thought that the high of slapping a grown thug in the face with a very large fish could be so quickly and thoroughly soiled, but somehow they’d managed it.

“But-“

“Not buts. You know the rules.”

The drive back to the Batcave was quiet. Jason had angrily kicked off his boots, arms knit tight across his chest as he slid low in his chair.

“So what’s weird about it?” He asked finally, giving up on sullen silence. “The case. What makes the commish think something’s up?”

“Robin…”

“Uptown folk are always slow to go to the cops, especially for missing children,” Jason continued thoughtfully. “Even the housed ones’ll disappear for days at a time for nothing. And most of the lousier parents don’t give a hoot if their kid runs off anyway. So for parents to file a missing child report, that’s strange. For a lot to do it at the same time, that’s super strange.”

“This isn’t your case,” Batman said. “ _I_ will look into it and if there’s still work to be done by Friday, I will gauge the safe extent to which you can participate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Commissioner is right. It’s not a good idea to let you jump blindly into a case that involves children.”

“From my old neighborhood!” Jason forced himself upright, glaring into the side of Batman’s cowl. “No one knows them or those streets better! You need me!”

“I am perfectly capable of handling this myself.” A pause. “And it’s not your old neighborhood.”

Jason blinked.

“Huh?”

“The disappearances aren’t from Crime Alley.”

He sunk back somewhat into his chair. “So where? Burnley? New Town?”

Jason’s nose wrinkled in disgust as realization hit.

“ _Oh_. Seriously, Bruce? You think I’m scared to sleuth around in _Crown Point_?”

“No. That’s what bothers me.”

The Bowery was widely considered the worst area of Gotham, as if that wasn’t like trying to point out the blackest spot on a burnt pan. However, ever since the Wayne Foundation made Crime Alley its pet project there was a slightly clearer winner for the grungiest part of town. The Bowery’s history of degeneracy was also older, whereas Crime Alley had at least been known as Park Row once upon a time.

The Bowery’s residential area, Crown Point, was separated from Crime Alley by a small park that had seen more than its share of bloodshed over the years. The Park belonged the Pointers now, as it had ever since the Park Row Theatre was renovated into a community center that made a few benches and trees less worth dying over.

“I could handle those Crown Point punks when I was a kid and I can handle ‘em now.” Jason grumbled.

“You are _still_ a kid. And my decision is final.”

* * *

 

The next night Batman prepared to leave the cave as usual with the Robin suit purposefully sealed in a locker.

“Bed by nine,” he had said, immune to Jason’s glare and giving the boy’s hair a gentle muss before departing in the Batmobile.

An hour later and Jason was sitting in Bruce’s study, the only sounds being his careful breathing and the steady scratching of a pen on paper. His tongue was held lightly between his teeth as he slowly wrote in painstaking script.

 

_Dear Kid Devil,_

_You know that I’m always chuffed to hear of your adventures! I have never been to the Institute of Hypernormal Conflict Studies, but I’d be delighted to visit someday._

_Unfortunately I don’t have much to share in this letter - you see the Batman has a dastardly rule in place that I am not allowed to patrol on school nights. Normally I abide by his statutes without complaint, but this week we caught word of a case that normally would be right up my alley. And yet the old man has really put his foot down!_

_Surely there must be some way to get around this ghastly restriction…_

 

A curt knock on the door made him pause in his work.

“I do hope I’m not disturbing your business Master Jason,” Alfred said dryly, hovering in the entrance of the study. “I was merely wondering if your hunger strike might be put on hold until after your father has returned to feel guilty about it.”

Jason set the fountain pen aside and folded his hands primly on the surface of the massive antique desk, sitting up straight in the tall-backed chair to give the illusion that his feet could reach the floor.

“Hello Alfred. I was just telling Kid Devil about the tyrannical state of our house.”

Alfred gave a solemn nod.

“Indeed sir. Underage gallivanting across the city and punching of ne’er do wells the eve before school is an inalienable right, and I ache for your oppression.”

“Exactly. And I’ll have you know that I’m submitting a formal appeal.”

Alfred set the food tray down. “Is that so.”

“I’m turning fourteen soon -“

“Five months, sir.”

“Practically a man, really. I think that it’s time to reassess the school night rule.”

“Hm. Well your appeal has been considered by the board Master Jason, and I’m sorry to say it has been formally declined.”

Jason made a protesting noise in his throat. “That’s not fair! What’s the point if Robin can’t be there when Batman needs him? And if I can’t help him on a case like _this_ , then-“

“There is no question of Robin’s value in the battle against Gotham’s criminal element,” Alfred said, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Jason Todd is simply more important.”

“But I’m doing _fine_ in school.”

“Then perhaps you could explore some activities _outside_ the classroom?” Alfred asked. “Just because patrol is out of the question, it doesn’t mean we can’t negotiate a weekday curfew. Summer vacation is around the bend, surely you want to get involved while you can.”

“Ugh, not you too! I told Mr. Simmons, I -“ Jason stopped. “Well actually… the stage crew for the theatre club said they could use a hand after school.”

Alfred smiled approvingly. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. You know I dabbled in a bit of theatre myself, back in the day.”

“But what about Bruce? I’m usually meant to train right after school.”

During term Jason more or less kept to the same schedule: class, training, dinner, homework, bed. The kids in his homeroom liked to joke about it.

“I will inform Master Bruce of you broadening your horizons. I’m sure he will be thrilled.”

* * *

 

Bruce was not thrilled.

He stared flatly at Jason from across the breakfast table on Monday morning, features becoming progressively more disapproving as the words sunk in.

“Two hours everyday for a week,” he said, frowning like he didn’t like the taste of the words. “What could they possibly have you doing? Building the set from scratch?”

“It’s tech stuff, mainly. Rigging up the lights and special effects. Fixing the soundboard. That sort of thing.”

Bruce sat up a little straighter. “If the electronics need extensive tinkering from a thirteen-year-old student, clearly I haven’t been donating enough to the academy.“

“It’ll be fine, Bruce! I know what I’m doing.”

“I really think -“

“If I may sir, personally I feel it would do the boy some good to spend more time out of the house,” Alfred said, a hint of warning in his tone.

“Why.” Bruce’s scowl intensified. “He leaves the house all the time.”

“To interact with his peers? You must admit his social life is a tad barren.”

“I am right here!” Jason pouted before directing his gaze towards Bruce. “It’s just some extra time at school. It’s not like I’m meeting kids at the Quick-Mart parking lot.”

“Parking lot?” Bruce echoed, looking almost disturbed.

“ _Please,_ Bruce? Just for this week?” Jason clasped his hands and tried to dial up the plea in his eyes.

A muscle in Bruce’s jaw twitched.

“I. I suppose.”

It’s not that Jason liked lying. But some things were necessary for the greater good.

That day he went to school with a large, ratty old sweatshirt stuffed in his bag along with a rolled-up pair of scruffy jeans. They were relics from his time in Crime Alley. Bruce had wanted to get rid of them all, but apparently the books he’d been reading warned against “the dangers of too many sudden and destabilizing changes”.

When class was over Jason changed out of his school uniform and slipped unseen out of the back gates.While the other day students of Gotham Academy flooded out to their chauffeurs, he was running to ride the subway to the Bowery.

* * *

 

Jason had never actually been to Crown Point. He’d been in _fights_ with Pointers before, back when the park struggles were still going on and their thugs would drunkenly stray into Alley territory looking for someone to hurt. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t, always they went home bloody. Because that’s what happened when Point and Alley kids got together.

Rationally Jason knew that they weren’t very different; most slums had the same general ingredients to them and Crime Alley and Crown Point were no exception. Both had their gangs, their prostitutes, their murderers. It was the little things, the tiny details that were just enough to make the adjacent neighborhoods hate each other.

Crown Point’s people were known for being as deep into the drug trade as you could be without official affiliation with the mob families or other organized crime. At night their streets were littered with homeless addicts. Point kids started dealing young, born into their parent’s trade and by the time they hit puberty their connections could span across the northern island. Most of them went on to remain kitchen dealers or became runners for various cartels.

Crime Alley was where the leg breakers and hired muscle of the city made their homes and families. Alley kids were more violent than their Point counterparts: thieves and scavengers that liked to grab your wallet when your back was turned and slash you open when it wasn’t. They were more likely to be street children - runaways or orphans, it hardly mattered - and the ones that survived would either grow up to be thugs for hire like their parents, or if very lucky, corrupt cops.

It was an effort for Jason not to tense up as he emerged from the underground, to feel like he hadn’t just stepped knee-deep into enemy territory. Fortunately he had gained some weight in the past year, and while the hoodie was large enough to mostly hide it, he still didn’t look like a Crime Alley kid anymore.

He could do this.

Jason found his way to a run-down playground bustling with kids of all ages. School had let out here too. He perched himself atop a peeling picnic table with uneven legs that gave a tilt under his weight. He didn’t have to wait long - there were only so many places to sit. Eventually a group of kids around his age made their way over from the bus stop, laughing and shoving each other.

“Hey kid,” one of them kicked the bench, causing wobbly vibrations. “Scram.”

Jason scoffed and blatantly sized him up. Pale, thin, probably fourteen. Two other girls and a boy of similar builds were flanking him.

“I was here first,” he said coolly.

“Too bad. Move or get moved.”

“Well if you want to tell your ma you got your nose broke on account of a bench you can feel free.”

The boy drew back slightly, surprised. “Yeah? And how old are you supposed to be?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed in somewhat genuine offense. “Thirteen.”

“Sure you are. You talk pretty tough, jr. high. Your accent’s local but I ain’t seen you around.” The boy took a seat, followed soon after by his friends.

“Just got back from a stint in juvie.”

“You? For what, stealing candy?” One of the girls asked.

“Tires.”

There was a round of knowing ‘ah’s even as the other girl gave a skeptical glance at Jason’s arms.

“Well I’m Travis, this is Claire and Anna and Max.”

“Jay.”

“Come walk with us Jay,” Anna said. “The drop outs will be getting back from their dealings in Burnley right about now, and they’re not so nice like us. We can go through The Park before the older kids muscle us out.”

Jason had only ever seen The Park from the outside. It was nice, actually. Green, clear of litter. The people of Crown Point clearly prized their spoil of war. They walked the winding path through the trees, the Point kids mainly gossiping or complaining about parents. There was definitely more of a community here - up in Crime Alley no one gave a good god damn what their neighbors were up to.

“Next time my ma gets on me about my quota, I tell you I’m walking,” Claire was saying.

“And do what? Live on the streets like some Park Row rat?” Travis said. “Good luck. You just bring in your cash and wait for the old bag to die, that’s what I’m doin’.”

“If I left, my dad would actually file on me,” Anna said with a scowl. “Like hell he’d go back to actually sellin' this trash himself.”

“That happen often?” Jason asked as casually as he could. "Parents filing?"

“Sure,” Max said. “I hear the Daltons shouting all the time about the whupping Michael’s gonna get when the cops bring him home. _If_ they do. No one’s even looking, obviously.”

“Who do you think took him?”

“You're crazy. Who the hell would want to grab Michael Dalton?” Claire snorted. “Even Crime Alley only snatches the pretty ones. He just got sick n’ tired like the rest of us and left.”

“To go where?”

“Who cares,” Travis said. “I say good riddance. That guy was a prick anyway.”

“Still. How good’s the boosting business, Jay?” Anna asked.

“Not as good as selling drugs.”

“Nothing’s as good as selling drugs. I just need good enough.”

As they breached the trees the kids began to disperse, heading home to pay up to their parents. Jason waited until they were out of sight before making a full-tilt run back to the subway station. Even the fastest transit to the Upper West Side took half an hour.

Upon arrival Jason scrambled through the back gates of the academy, ducking into a corner away from the security cameras to change back into his uniform.

Alfred’s car was easy to spot in the near-empty parking lot and Jason nearly fell into the back seat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Alfred the others are boarding students so we just lost track of time and it won’t happen again I promi-“

“Calm down and catch your breath, Master Jason.”

Jason flopped around a little in his seat, waiting for his adrenaline levels to normalize.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Alfred said, starting the engine. “Did you happen to make any new friends?”

“I…” Jason swallowed, buckling his seatbelt. “I suppose I did.”

* * *

 

The lie continued throughout the week. Jason got progressively more efficient when it came to darting out of school, speed-changing his clothes and grabbing a ride north. It still left him barely an hour each day to subtly gather intel from the Point kids, but it was enough. He learned that Claire’s parents dealt heroin and Travis’ dealt crack. Anna and Max’s entire apartment building grew opium. Each of them knew, even tangentially, at least a handful of kids that had gone missing.

Thursday was when it all came to a head.

Jason knew he needed to make a crack in the case before Friday. Bruce was being cagey about details regarding his own progress, which meant that there was a good chance Robin would get sidelined tomorrow. All because he was apparently not ready to work on cases related to children.

They’d see about that.

Jason ducked out of class a little earlier than usual, which gave him an uneasy thrill even though his teacher had barely bat an eye at his request to go to the bathroom fifteen minutes before dismissal.

He just didn’t want to waste any time on his way to the Crown Point playground.

“Jay! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Claire ran over and almost fell against the table, eyes bright. “Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

“What’s going on?” Jason asked. “Something wrong?”

“Everything’s great! Listen - how’d you like to make some better money than boosting car parts?”

“Doing what?”

“I'll show you!” Claire took Jason’s hand and pulled him down the sidewalk. “Rosie McKlennan told them about me, you know the girl from my street who left last month? And they found me doing my route in East End and just offered me the job!”

“Job? Claire you’re not making any sense,” Jason said as he let himself be led through the backstreets.

“It’s a job in Robbinsville, Jay. A gang war’s been heating up and they’re broadening their drug trafficking business to fund it. So they’re hiring kids from the Bowery since we know the trade and are cheaper than our parents.” Claire squeezed his hand. “I won’t have to sell for my mom anymore, I’ll be able to get out that fucking apartment!”

“There are other ways to leave home,” Jason said.

“Pfft, yeah. Travis was right, all my money comes from my mom’s drugs. If I left I’d have nothing; I’d be fighting for scraps out of dumpsters and selling myself like they do in Crime Alley. No way.”

Jason frowned. “And how do you know these guys are legit?”

“I know the other kids, Jay. They come from Crown Point. And lots of Pointers leave to get taken on by the cartels in Cape Carmine eventually.”

“And working for the mob is better than your mom?”

“Anything is better than working for my mom.”

They came to a stop at a corner where a slick black car was waiting. It definitely looked like it was owned by one of the crime families, rather than anyone from around here.

“This is the kid I told you about. He’s stronger than he looks and needs the money,” Claire said.

A man in a button-down and slacks looked them over before shrugging. “Climb on in.”

Everything in Jason’s bones screamed that this was wrong, that he should run to the nearest payphone and call for Bruce.

“Claire I dunno about this.”

“Come on, Jay. I need this. It’s not like we’re gonna be in the gang war ourselves, just making them money. It’s the same kind of work me and the others do for our parents,” Claire said. “Car parts aren’t gonna to keep you going forever. Sooner or later you need to pick a faction, we all do. Getting in with a gang is how you survive and the mobs in Carmine are the oldest and richest and strongest in the city. This is our in!”

Claire let go of his hand.

“I’m going. Are you coming with me?”

He couldn’t let her leave alone. They climbed into the backseat and began the drive eastward.

Jason glared into the back of the driver’s head until his eyes couldn’t help but stray to the clock on the dashboard. He wasn’t going to make it back to school in time, but he knew that this was it. The final stretch of the case. Even though he'd hoped to do this part as Robin.

They eventually pulled up in front of a big, blocky grey building. It looked like some kind of storage warehouse.

“Alright, out.” The driver motioned.

Jason and Claire were herded through a guarded door, where he stopped short at what he saw inside.

It was hands-down the most massive drug lab he’d ever seen.

He blinked under the bright lights of the extensive hydroponic system that had been set up to facilitate aisles of cannabis.

“The labs are that way,” their guide said, leading them past a large room filled with rows of countertops lined with beakers and burners and flasks. “Housing’s over here.”

“Housing?” Jason repeated, quickening his pace to catch up.

The final section of the building was comprised solely of thin mattresses stacked on wooden pallets.

“Wait here. You’ll get debriefed tonight with the other new ones,” the guide said before leaving them behind.

Claire sat herself on one of the beds. “Wow. Did you see that lab? I’ve never seen one that clean before.”

“Claire,”

“And I mean it ain’t the East End Regal, but it’s not -“

“Claire, listen to me!” Jason shook her shoulder. “Something’s not right. Look at this place.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “I have been looking. So what?”

“Look at the kids - some of them are as young as ten!”

“And?”

“Look at their _eyes._ ”

Claire turned around, scrutinizing the faces of the other children there. There were maybe fifty in total and they all looked tired, glazed over. Resigned.

“This isn’t a dormitory. It’s a barrack.”

Two hours later a man in a black suit came into the ‘housing’ area, accompanied on both sides by armed guards. Since Jason and Claire’s arrival a handful of other kids had been brought in, including Travis.

The man was launching into a speech about the schedule and proper procedures when finally Jason couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do we get weekends?”

The man stared, blank look transforming into a glare.

“You work when and how the family tells you to.”

“So we get paid overtime, right?”

His nostrils flared. “The-“

“How _much_ do we get paid?”

The other kids began to nod and mutter. The man cleared his throat.

“All of you are now assets of the Sabatino family. That is worth more than any -“

“Buddy, if it ain’t worth _cash_ , it literally ain’t worth nothing,” Travis said. “I’m out.”

As he stood, the guards tightened their grip on their firearms. Jason grasped Travis’ shoulder.

“As I was saying,” the suited man said coldly. “You belong to the Sabatino now. You leave when we say so. And we don’t say so.”

The doors pointedly slammed shut behind them.

“What does that mean?” One of the kids asked.

“It means they want to slave us out,” Jason said, standing up. “But that’s not going to happen. Did you see them? They’re from Midtown. Businessmen and security agents that grew up under the organized crime families. Utterly clueless.”

The other kids exchanged wary, but vengeful looks.

“There’s an exit, but it’s always guarded,” one of the older girls said tentatively. “And they watch us all the time when we’re working, but I don’t think they can really tell what we’re doing.”

“We need a diversion. But trying to make a bomb in the lab would just blow us _all_ to hell.” Another boy added.

“I like your style but I’m not thinking of a bomb,” Jason said. “They don’t wear masks outside the labs?”

A round of shaking heads.

“Okay. Here’s what we need,”

* * *

 

The guards didn’t notice when someone smuggled out a battery and some steel wool from the lab. Nor did it reach their notice when others took shreds of napkin and torn fabric and surreptitiously dabbed them in flammable fluids. Jason gathered the scraps after, balling them up and hiding them amidst the marijuana stalks.

“Are you sure about this?” Travis asked, watching Jason rub the sparking battery on the wool.

“Sure enough.”

“That’s not a yes.”

The steel wool caught and Jason quickly transferred its flame onto the makeshift kindling.

“Too late now.”

They slipped into the barracks with the rest of the kids, who had already overturn a mattresses and broken its wooden pallet into splintery planks and clubs. Somewhere a fire alarm began to ring, footsteps trampling down the hall as shouts were heard.

Jason waited until the count of five before pulling the doors open. “Okay, go!”

“This way!” One of the older kids led them down the hall, away from the yelling and thin haze of smoke that was beginning to spill from the indoor farm.

As they turned the corner the door came into view, along with a single guard. Jason watched as the man reached for his walkie-talkie and immediately reacted: he snatched a plank of wood from one of the kids behind him and barreled down the hallway, driving his foot into the guard's stomach. As the man curled inwards Jason thrust the heel of his hand into his nose and slammed the plank down on his head.

“Holy shit,” Travis said. “The fuck do they teach you in juvie?”

They rushed out the back door and barricaded it shut with another piece of pallet once everyone was through.

“It’s not far to the Bowery. If we can make it even to the Sprang highway we can get help,” Jason said. “Run!”

No one needed to be told twice. Children scattered like birds, darting into the shadows of alleys and backstreets they knew so well.

Jason lingered for a moment, looking at the plume of smoke rising into the night. It drew his eye to the overcast skies, and the bat symbol emblazoned upon it.

Right.

He weaved between buildings and darted across streets, listening to the faint sound of firetruck sirens. He didn’t stop to catch his breath until he was across the border of Robbinsville and the Bowery.

“Jay! Over here!” He leaned against a lamp post as Claire, Travis and one of the older kids ran over.

“Thought we’d lost you for a second,” Travis said, holding his backpack. “You almost left this in the barracks.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

“God, that was a bust, wasn’t it?” Claire sighed, as if they were discussing a trip to the park ruined by weather. “Damn.”

“Real shame," Jason said wryly.

“That’s Gotham, I guess.” Travis kicked a dented can across the street. “Fucking hate this town.”

“Oh, by the way this is Michael. We might have mentioned him?” Claire motioned at the older boy, who was scrutinizing Jason with sharp eyes.

“Hey. I’m J-“

“Is this some kind of joke, Claire?” Michael demanded.

“Joke?”

“I thought he looked familiar,” Michael said. “This here’s _Bruce Wayne_ ’s son.”

Jason felt his chest tighten around his heart.

“You inhaled too much of the pot fumes, Dalton.” Travis scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

But now even Claire was squinting at Jason, head tilted in thought.

“Don’t you kids read the damn papers? Moneybags adopted him last year.” Michael sneered. “He’s from _Park Row._ ”

“That’s… that’s not…” Travis turned to him. “Jay?”

Jason swallowed. “I…”

He could feel the others draw back from him.

“What the fuck? What- what were you even-“ Claire put a steadying hand to her forehead. “Was this some kind of laugh for you?”

“No, of course not!”

“So you knew Alley kids ain’t welcome in Crown Point and thought what, that since your daddy’s king of the city you could just waltz into our town? Pretend you were one of us?”

Jason took a step back, struggling not to drop into a defensive stance. He didn’t want to fight, but he’d seen what happened to Alley kids when Pointers outnumbered them.

There was a long, tense silence.

“You know what? I’m done with this.” Travis roughly threw Jason’s backpack to him. “Go _home_ , rich boy.”

“That’s it?” Michael asked in disbelief, watching them turn away.

“Yeah.” Claire took Travis by the arm. “That’s it.”

* * *

 

Jason made the miserable walk through North Gotham’s streets, backpack still clutched against his chest. It felt familiar: just him on a cool night going down a trash-strewn sidewalk.

Headlights rolled past him, then stopped with a screech of brakes. Jason watched as a car sharply reversed to line up with him.

“I ain’t selling nothin’!” Jason shouted. “Fuck off.”

The window rolled down. “ _Jason?_ What are you doing!?”

He closed his eyes in dismay. Oh great.

Dick was looking at him in utter bewilderment, his car making a slow crawl to keep up with Jason’s renewed pace.

“Are you out here alone? You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh for the love of - get in the car.”

“I’m _fine_.”

Dick gave a heavy, dramatic sigh as he stopped and climbed out.

“I told you to - hey!” Jason was being bodily hauled into the air by a firm arm around his middle. “Hands off! I’ll scream!”

“In this neighborhood?” Dick slung him into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door shut before Jason could kick him anywhere important.

They drove north, on towards the Kane Memorial Bridge and eventually the Wayne estate.

“What the hell were you doing out there by yourself? Out of costume, no less!”

“Why are you here?” Jason asked sullenly, forehead pressed against the window.

“Alfred called me. Said you went missing from your school. I told him you were probably just playing hooky, but apparently that’s ‘unthinkable behavior’ from you.” Dick scoffed. “But teleporting to the opposite end of the city isn’t, huh? Walking the Bowery at night alone, geez.”

Jason hugged the backpack tighter, trying and failing to smother a sniffle.

Dick did a stunned double-take. “Are you… are you crying?”

Jason buried his face in his bag. “No!”

“Oh god, you are. Look, Jason, I didn’t mean it like - I was just - please don’t cry.” The car unsubtly accelerated. “W-we’re almost home, alright? I’m sure Bruce has been worried sick about you. I thought he didn’t even let you out on school nights - ”

Jason curled further in on himself as a sob escaped. Dick was suddenly almost definitely breaking traffic laws with his speed.

He hated crying - it was messy and made his head hurt afterwards - but sometimes his feelings just spilled over. It used to happen a lot more, just after he moved into the manor. When he saw his new room, when he saw the food, when he saw something sad in a nature documentary… Or when he royally screwed up by running off to solve a case by himself. Alfred and Bruce had become almost accustomed to seeing Jason wandering the halls, sniffling while insisting nothing was wrong.

All he’d wanted to do was help. That’s what Robin did, right? And Jason had always figured that his connection with Gotham was what made him special. It was something that even Dick, with all his perfect original Robin-ness, didn’t have. He wanted to show that he could do both: Jason Todd _and_ Robin. Crown Pointers or not, he cared about those other kids, the ones who hadn’t gotten out like he had and were still trying to survive out in the city.

Dick was awkwardly tucking crumpled napkins into the crux of Jason’s elbow.

“What time is it?” Jason asked quietly.

“Oh, uh,” Dick glanced at his wrist watch. “About 8:45.”

Jason sunk lower in his seat. “I’m supposed to be in bed by nine. I haven’t even had dinner yet.”

“Are you hungry? I can pull over someplace.”

“I’m not allowed to eat fast food,” Jason said, barely intelligible with his mouth covered by his bag.

“Whoa, what? Like… really?” Dick blinked.

Jason nodded. Bruce might have had a _slight_ freakout after that first physical check-up resulted in Dr. Thompson uttering the phrases ‘worryingly underweight’ and ‘serious nutrient deficiency’.

“Or coffee. Or ice cream unless it’s vegan.”

“Vegan.”

“Low sugar. No dairy.”

“Well what the hell else would it have?”

“Banana base.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s not bad. Alfred makes it because Bruce says that store-bought stuff has gums and stabilizers.”

He could feel Dick staring blankly at him.

“… Right. Of course.”

They pulled up into the Wayne Manor front drive and Jason prepared himself. Every light in the house seemed to be on, but there was no doubt in his mind that Bruce was either down in the cave or out searching the streets.

“Come on. Time to face the music,” Dick said as he killed the engine.

The front door opened before they were all the way up the front steps, Alfred standing against the golden backlight of the entrance hall.

“Thank goodness. You’ve had us all very worried.” Alfred ushered them inside. “Thank you so much for bringing him home, Master Richard.”

“Yeah, no problem. Where’s Bruce?”

“Taking matters into his own hands, as is his custom.” Alfred put a comforting hand on Jason’s head. “You look absolutely exhausted, sir. Go clean yourself up and I’ll see what I can warm you for dinner. In the meantime I must call your father.”

Jason mutely nodded. As he dragged himself up the stairs, he could just catch the murmur of Dick’s voice.

“He doesn’t _really_ live off some kind of fat-free soy diet, does he?”

* * *

 

The heavy footfalls could be felt from several rooms over and the urgent voices weren’t hard to hear either.

“ _Where is he?_ ”

“He’s here, he’s fine -“

Jason gnawed his bottom lip. His hair was still damp, wetting the collar of his flannel pajamas, but even the shower couldn’t wash away the blotchy traces of his crying. This was going to suck.

He nudged his way into the downstairs parlor. Bruce was barefoot and wearing the undershirt and sweats he kept down and the cave, looking like he’dliterally shed the suit to the Batcave floor and grabbed whatever was available.

“I told you, I only just found him.” Dick had his hands up in a placating gesture when his eyes caught Jason’s.

Bruce fiercely turned to follow his gaze. Jason felt a jolt at the intensity of Bruce’s stare, at how quickly the man fell into a kneel so that he could assess Jason at his level. When he was satisfied that Jason was unharmed, he half-looked over his shoulder towards Dick.

“Where was he.”

The expression on Dick’s face as he watched them was difficult to read.

“I picked him up near a bus stop just off the Sprang Bridge.”

“Bus stop?” Bruce echoed with the such horrified awe that Dick might as well have said ‘the moon’. “At night. In the _Bowery_.”

He turned back to Jason, mouth set in a stern line.

“ _Alone_.”

Jason looked at his feet and nodded.

“Alfred went to pick you up from school. Apparently the stage crew hasn’t seen you all week.”

He nodded once more.

Bruce frowned as he inspected Jason’s face.

“You’ve been crying again.”

Jason buried his face in his hands. Why did he have to say it like _that?_

“It was on the way over. I wasn’t sure if I said something wrong.” Dick held out Jason’s backpack. “He had this. His uniform’s still inside. When I found him he was in an old sweatshirt and jeans.”

Bruce took it and paused for a long moment.

“Jason. Why does your bag smell like cannabis?”

Jason froze. He didn’t need a mirror to know his eyes were wide.

“Um.” His voice felt small.

Bruce’s face was grim as he drew slightly back. “… There was a fire in Robbinsville this evening.”

“I,”

“A drug lab operation that was running on child labor.”

“B,”

Bruce’s eyes were like stone.

“Labor composed of the kids from the case I specifically said you couldn’t participate in.”

Jason didn’t know what else to say. It was clear to even those who weren’t the World’s Greatest Detective what had happened.

He could feel the tears coming back, and as his breathing became more labored he could tell Bruce sensed it too.

“Jason…” Bruce’s face became pained as he rested his hands on Jason’s arms. “What you did was extremely dangerous. You not only went into the most felonious area of the city by yourself, but you deliberately mislead us as to your whereabouts.”

Jason rubbed his face messily on his pajama shirt, not that it did much good. Bruce sighed and took a handful of tissues from a nearby box, wiping away some of the tears.

“The fire was a terrible idea. It could have spread to the lab and caused the entire building to go up... But I was alerted to its exact location quicker than I would have found myself. The children have all been accounted for and returned to their families.”

Jason loudly sniveled. “T-the only reason they signed up with the gang at all is because they didn’t want to deal for their parents anymore. And the only reason their parents reported is because they wanted their workers back.”

Bruce frowned. “I see. If that’s true I’ll see what can be done about it. You on the other hand, are grounded. Until August.”

Jason choked. “I’m grounded until my birthday!?”

“Your _25th_ birthday.”

“But - but what about the summer?” Jason protested. “The library and museum have events going all season, I can’t stay in the house for all of it!”

“You are welcome to accompany me to work if you’d like. In fact I’d feel better if you didn’t leave my sight for as long as possible.”

Jason groaned. “Bruce…”

The last thing he wanted to do was be put into some snug sweater vest and button-up combo and have his cheeks pinched by the Wayne Enterprises secretaries. Again.

“You realize how serious this was, don’t you?” Bruce asked sternly. “You’ll have to earn our trust back after this.”

Jason’s lip wobbled and Bruce stood up.

“Alfred has dinner waiting for you. Afterwards you’re to go straight to bed; you have a doctor’s appointment in the morning.”

“What? But - but I have school!” Jason protested.

“There were _numerous_ illicit drugs being developed in that building, Jason. We need to do a thorough check to ensure you weren’t exposed to anything harmful.”

Jason huffed. “I’m fine.”

“We’ll see. Now go, eat. It’s already past nine.”

He unhappily turned and left the parlor, shutting the door behind him but lingering in the hallway.

“Well. Can’t say that’s a side of him I’ve seen before,” he heard Dick say. “Is that normal?”

Bruce didn't reply. “I assume Alfred called you.”

“… Yeah. He was worried and thought an extra pair of eyes would do some good. Should I have stayed in New York?”

“You didn’t need to trouble yourself.”

Dick gave an unamused laugh. “Well I did. Look, Jason seems -“

“He’ll be fine,” Bruce said tersely. “I’ll be keeping a closer eye on him.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the problem,” Dick said. “I was just going to say that maybe I could spend some time with him. Take him somewhere. Like I dunno, skiing or something.”

“I don’t like the idea of rewarding his recent behavior.”

“I wasn’t talking about doing anything tomorrow, I just…” Dick sighed. “You sure keep him on a short lead.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you never cared about any of that stuff with me. You could be a little overbearing, sure, but you never tried to regulate my diet or impose a bedtime or drag me to W.E. when I was thirteen -“

“ _Jason is not you,_ ” Bruce said firmly. “He has his own needs and I don’t have to justify my decisions to you.”

“… Of course not. You never did.” There was the sound of Dick zipping up his jacket. “Well next time you decide to address Jason’s ‘need’ for sane social interaction, you know how to reach me.”

Jason darted across the hall and into the nearest room, waiting to hear Dick’s footsteps fade down the hall. He wondered how to tell Alfred that he wasn’t feeling very hungry after all.

* * *

 

_Dear Kid Devil,_

_Sometimes I wonder why it is that Nightwing and Batman are so at odds. No one seems willing to talk about it. I sure hope that Batman and I don’t wind up like that someday! Still, sometimes I can’t help but feel like I’m still in the first Robin’s shadow. Is that why I live under a more restricting set of rules? Might things be different if I were more like him?_

 

Jason sighed, chewing on the end of his pen. His sheets were tented over him as he quietly scratched the letter by flashlight.

 

_I feel somewhat at a loss as to how I should feel regarding the resolution of this case. On one hand I think I provided valuable insight that would otherwise not be forthcoming. Yet on the other I do not feel good about what has happened at all. Both in regards to Batman, and the kids I met in the Bowery. Despite what Nightwing or Agent A say, I really am content with the current state of my social life... but all the same I still have regrets about how the case ended._

_Sorry for the gloomy update! Hopefully the coming weeks will bring better tidings._

_Your friend,_

_Robin_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in continuity with my series, Nests and Cages, although the connections aren't really apparent.


End file.
